Dust clouds billow across the water surface within Dakar harbour. Mooring lines are let go and I ease Arctic Sunrise away from the berth, thrusting her stern to the side and twisting her broad beam into the whirling dust bowl. She seems to flaunt her manoeuvrability. We roar out of the harbour.
A mile beyond the breakwater two rusty fish factories, the Volopas and Coral, swing frozen fish into the hold of the Asian Cosmos, a refrigerated cargo ship anchored between them. The fishers, both registered in Comoros, have a Russian operator and between them carry 3600 tonne of fish. A fisheries inspector’s boat is beside them. Everything is above board – there is just this nagging question I have of the ethics: waving fish under the nose of Senegal.
Eight miles further south and well outside port limits, we find the Blue Wave, a much larger fish factory. This Belize registered boat with Icelandic operator has the capacity for 3 372 tonnes of fish. It lies at anchor transhipping her catch to the New Takatsuki. But there is something fishy going on.There is a little piroque bobbing up and down beside her, like an anxious puppy after a bone. The incentive is nets of frozen fish, judging by volume about five tonnes, creamed off the top. There is a fisheries inspector on board.
We watch and wait. When the laden piroque pulls away, labouring beneath its load, we intercept to ask questions. There are no answers – the tiller-man has been instructed to keep quiet. We continue south.
As sun casts a midas touch turning dust to gold we head south along the coast of Senegal to find the silhouette of a fish factory fishing – too dark to identify we stand off till dawn.
